


Like Taco Bell

by Clippy_Bandit



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Drugs, First Meetings, Fluff, Friendship, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Rape/Non-con Elements, Swearing, hes a rood dude, i need pills, i think i was drunk when i wrote this so just have at it babes, kavinsky - Freeform, mild crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clippy_Bandit/pseuds/Clippy_Bandit
Summary: “Ronan, you'll be in and out.” Gansey reasoned, rolling down the driver's side window to try and chase off the stale smells of sweat, old chips and pleather as they drove through the quiet hills of Henrietta’s lonely outskirts.“Like Taco Bell.” Noah chimed in from the backseat, dodging the pennies Gansey could find in the cupholder beside him to hurl at him.





	1. 1

“Ronan, you'll be in and out.” Gansey reasoned, rolling down the driver's side window to try and chase off the stale smells of sweat, old chips and pleather as they drove through the quiet hills of Henrietta’s lonely outskirts. 

“Like Taco Bell.” Noah chimed in from the backseat, dodging the pennies Gansey could find in the cupholder beside him to hurl at him. They’d been driving for the better part of the morning, rounding the hills that could always be seen from Monmouth, pretending to forget their destination. 

Gansey glanced over to Ronan once more, a worried look marring his elegant features, one that did not go amiss by Ronan who refused to look at them, folding in on himself to look pitifully small, a memory of the once-confident, brash teenager he was. This was what was left of Ronan. Robbed of his own nature by the power of the courts. Jail or rehab. 

“At least they won't fuck you in the butt here.”

“Noah!” Gansey yelled, throwing more pennies. Ronan remained a wall, staring out the passenger side window, as if searching for something just out of reach. 

“All im saying is that this is a better alternative, right? You get to pick daisies and shit, man.” Ronan turned to scowl at him, unfurling one elegant middle finger towards Noah. Gansey sighed before concentrating once more on the road ahead, it couldn't be far now, the GPS had been approaching a little checkered flag, ronan could see. He looked up as the Pig began to decelerate and be ushered by gansey into a winding gravel driveway that stretched on into the woodland beyond the main road. They drove on. 

“Ronan.” Ronan didn't look up.

“Ronan” Gansey hissed. After a few seconds, Ronan hummed in acknowledgement. “This is going to be as good and as helpful as you make it, i know-”

“No, you don't.” 

“-It's going to be difficult to adjust. But seriously, Ronan, this is a real opportunity to fix this. If not for you, for me and for Noah and Matthew, even Declan-”

“He doesn't give a flying fuck.” Ronan looked as if he wanted to say more, however his self-imposed ‘I only say as many words as i can count fingers on my hands’ rule prevented this. 

“Well.” Gansey parked the pig and turned off the ignition. Looking up, Ronan realised they had arrived. “I care. And i know you can see that. And i understand that he did everything to land you in here but the key to coming home is in you. Nobody but yourself is standing in your way.”  
Lecture over, Gansey unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, as if he’d arrived in a horse-drawn coach.   
“Noah. Stay in the Pig.” Gansey instructed. 

Noah crossed his arms, muttering “You're not my dad” but staying where he was told.

Oh boy, Gansey thought, please let this not be another damn misery...


	2. An effective defense mechanism.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kavinsky Is Not a Good Play Mate.

Truth be told, Ronan counted this as a blessing rather than a curse.

Shit had hit the fan hard, as if it meant to punish him for a past life. He thought his previous self must have kicked babies for fun or some shit if this was the deal he ended up with. 

It didn't matter who or what he blamed, be it his father's mangled corpse bleeding into the gravel driveway of the barns or perhaps himself for always chasing a storyline. Hunting for plot twists to a mundane and evidently boring life that had grown out of a childhood trauma that has once been the sunrise and sunset of his existence. Social workers and old family friends rallied around the young Ronan Lynch despite his emotions ultimately numbed from the pain. An effective defense mechanism. But now, when he needed them most, when his walls finally started to crumble as the world asked him to solidify a personality, asked him to grow into the adult they had been promised, there was noone. 

He couldn't hold his breath anymore in the rapids that existence was. 

And so plot twists were hunted, very much calls for help in the abyss.

Looking for trouble. 

Making trouble. 

Being the fucking dictionary equivalent of trouble.

Jutting out his already sharp jawbone, stumbling into tattoo parlours drunk of his face asking them to draw god and looking at the result in the morning light from the Monmouth bathroom-kitchen hybrid. 

Going back to Kavinsky. 

Texting him ‘Tonight?’, with a ‘k’ appearing in the chat soon after. Following like a puppy to the bone white Mitsubishi, shoving lighters, wrappers and dream things off the passenger seat to collapse in, drunk off the magic of the night. Drunk of Joseph’s dirty Russian seemingly piss-flavoured vodka. Drunk off midnight rallies with Prokopenko and Swan, drifting unintentionally off small hills, breaking things just to dream them up again. It always ended the same violent way, Kavinsky leaning in close with the smell of smoke and cedar, asking him for something more. 

“I thought you wanted this, Lynch.” He’d ask, a grin begging to come to the surface as he eyed Ronan from across the console behind dim sunglasses despite the cloak of night surrounding them.

“Just drive me back now, K” Ronan sighed, refusing to maintain eye contact. “I’m done.”

Kavinsky roared with laughter, the sound of a maniac.

“You're never done with me, you keep heeling to sweet little Dick Gansey but puppy still likes the look of trouble. He must be a good fuck, anyhow, to be able to keep you on such a tight leash.” Kavinsky snaked his arm across Ronan to slowly lock the passenger door, staring at his all the while. “Admit it, you’re broken. You've got a cute little family like that but still it's just not enough. 

"Is that not enough for you, Lynchie? You've squeezed life by the tits but still searching for more..” Kavinsky emphasized his point by pinching Ronan's side lightly, hoping for a reaction. Ronan looked forward evermore, a stone wall. 

“The same goes for you, Joseph. You must not be enough for me.” Kavinsky tensed. “how, I wonder, does that make you feel?.”  
“I will eat you alive.” Kavinsky mumbled, scratching in the glovebox for something before pulling out a small metal tin that held what looked to be mints when he popped the cap. “Want a lolly, sweet cheeks?”

Ronan scoffed “Fuck off and drive.”, closing the container as kavinsky pulled one out for himself, popping it into his mouth before letting out a crude moan. 

“You're the boss.” Joseph Kavinsky said, turning on the ignition, releasing the brake and leaning over to smash his lips against Ronan’s as quick as lighting. Ronan tried to shout, only to have Kavinsky find more entrance in his mouth, slipping his tongue that carried the rapidly dissolving pill into his mouth. He leant back in the driver's seat as Ronan coughed and gasped, the pill already having disappeared into his stomach. “Cute” Kavinsky said.

“You motherfucker, i’m going to kill-” Ronan tried to yell only to be hit by a wave of something. “Are..are those..?” Already feeling numb, he grasped for his fleeting sanity. 

“Dream roofies, baby cakes” Kavinsky sung, patting Ronan on the back. “Don't fight it ok? Ruins all the fun.” 

And then the world went white, overexposed, flooded with static.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Break your heart and sell the pieces to Joseph Kavinsky for some forbidden dream roofies. 
> 
> punctuation and spelling errors are there for artistic effect, not because i'm too lazy to spell check i swear...


	3. Not Half Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This place is a glorified cabin (in a nice way), Noah's a barnacle (in a nice way) and the receptionist has a lil sass (in a nice way).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I diddn't realise so many people were down with the Raven Cycle. Boy o' boy i love you all.

Suffice to say, the rehabilitation clinic didn't look half bad. 

Gansey's over-the-top but nevertheless sweet crusade in researching each and every Henrietta facility that could, by law, administer the care and attention the state deemed necessary was ultimately a successful one. A few nights prior to Ronan having to sign-in to one of the eligible facilities, he stumbled across his two roommates huddled up to the blinding light of Ganseys macbook. Noah's face peeked over Gansey’s shoulder, the rest of him a mess of pale, spaghetti limbs behind Gansey, Noah’s Human Doormat. 

“Ronan. Scout Hall or Day spa chic?” Gansey asked, without looking from the monitor. Ronan’s face twisted into something of indifference and defeat.

“How about an 18th century loony house, didn't those always do the trick?” He replied, moving to the kitchen-bathroom hybrid to wash what looked like burnt caramel from his hands. Clearly another oddity, residual of his ever-prolific dreams. 

“For real though, man, we found a good one. You like nature n’ shit right? Okay good.” Noah shuffled closer to the screen, pointing to a photograph and leaving a smudge on the otherwise pristine laptop. “See? That's motherfucking zen.”

“Can't argue with that.” Gansey smiled up at Ronan through his wireframes and untamed hair. 

“Whatever.” Is all they heard from Ronan’s retreating form as it slipped back into his room to brood, or dream, or both. 

Seeing the center in person was something else entirely. Gansey and Ronan stood shoulder-to-shoulder, halfway between the Pig and a snaking gravel pathway that led to the glass door entrance that could be seen peeking out from the vibrant garden. Noah’s head poked out from the pigs rear window to better smell the mossy environment, taking in the beauty of the place. It looked like a scene torn from a storybook, a set made by a production with far too much time and money on their hands, a place of healing. 

“Okay, yeah Zen.” Ronan muttered, planting his hands in the pockets of his torn jeans. “Let’s go before the sugarplum fairies mug us.”

The pair made their way down the winding path, somewhat comforted by the lack of gurneys and straight jackets thus far. Ronan was sure they kept them somewhere in this big ass log cabin and couldn't wait to swipe one to try on Noah later. The door opened automatically to reveal an inviting reception full of cushions and more timber, and a woman reading a well-loved book behind a desk directly opposite the door. Gansey strode to the counter, a fresh smile dawning on his face.

“Ah, you must be the lovely lady in charge.” She peeled her eyes from the page, assessing him as if Gansey was a pimple.

“Are you here to sign yourself in?” 

“No, just seeing off Ronan Lynch, we call ahead to let you know we’d be stopping by…?” he trailed off as the girl began typing. 

“Are you sure you don't want to join your friend?” She asked, biting a pencil. 

“Um. No. I’m fine, well, the state of Virginia has not issued a resounding decree that I should be here.”

“Have you seen the way you dress?” She looked to Ronan “Did you do this to him?” Ronan shrugged. 

“Just a suggestion. It's nice here. We have dogs.” She pointed to a mound in the corner that vaguely resembled what looked a Saint Bernard.

“My name’s Blue. I work around the property, so we’ll see each other around a fair bit. Its lot the largest rehab center in the world, which in my opinion makes it easier to relax, there's roughly 35 guests at the moment.” Blue made her way around the desk to shake their hands. “I’d love to show you to your room, Ronan, but we have to ask you to undergo a physical with our GP and an assessment by your designated counsellor before that happens. Capiche?”

Although the circumstances were less than pleasant, Ronan was already feeling comfortable, especially around Blue, a girl that could have passed as a guest for the way she dressed and acted in such a carefree manner. 

“I've got to head off, Ronan. I can see Noah biting the steering wheel.” Gansey hesitated before pulling Ronan into a hug. Ronan's arms remained limp, but his face softened a fraction. “Be good and just...stick it out? Make some friends!” He said as the automatic doors closed between them.

“He seems sweet.” Blue said beside him. “Once you get past the khaki crust.”

“Yeah.” Ronan mumbled. 

“I'll take you to the doc, and then we’ll get you settled in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Enter Adam. 
> 
> This is my first attempt at a legitimate ficcy, everyone that gives it a go has a special place in my soul. Thank you all. :')
> 
>  
> 
> sorry that the chapters are as short as noah's attention span. Theyre like shots. -clink-


	4. Nice To Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Adam.

Ronan waited outside the clinic, kneading a floppy ear of the dog that has decided to investigate him, trotting over with a happy grin and another dog’s worth of fur. The frosted door beside him opened silently with a clean cut blonde on the other side.

“Ronan? I’m Emile” He spoke sweetly. “Let's check you out, hm?”, beckoning him into the office. 

The check up covered basics such as blood pressure and peeing into a cup, with a questionnaire at the end leaving Ronan feeling plucked open at the seams. The events of the day weighed on him and with his sleeping schedule already royally fucked, it took a toll. Emile was the kind of person that noticed these things and finished up as quickly as Ronan thought was medically possible and brought him back to Blue.

“Your suitcase has been taken to the room already, and if i remember right…” She looked down at her notepad, more doodles than actual notes. “...Yeah. You’ll be rooming with another kid you're age, our age.” She smiled.

“Roommate? Is that…”

“Safe? Yeah, this ones a good one. Great conversationalist once you get past...well…”

“I was going to say normal, but safe is a bonus.” Ronan thought back to Blue trailing off, unable to help the intrigue. 

“Whether you like it or not, the doc’s pretty happy to room you two together. Thinks it'll do you both good, kill two birds with one stone and all. Just dont kill each other.” She tagged on hurriedly “We assumed you wouldn't be as cooperative, which would have dented the plans, however seeing your reaction the environment conveys that you're not completely adverse at getting help. You must have really hit rock bottom, hey.” Blue stopped walking down the corridor abruptly. “This is you.” She patted the door.

“Um.” 

“Sorry.”

“No, its fine.”

“Ok. sure?”

“Yeah”

“Well...hope you like it.” She said, quietly cheerful. “Oh, your roomies name is Adam.” She tapped the door. “Good luck!”

Blue retreated back to her desk, storming down the oak stairs that led to the bedrooms. Ronan took a moment to gather himself turning the brass doorknob, cold in his grip. The door swung open to reveal a spacious, cheerful room with windows like yawning mouths, eating up the light from outside. The door to what looked like an ensuite swung open at that moment to reveal a very naked, very oblivious male. 

Ronan tried for quietly making his presence known, knocking twice on the doorframe. 

The boy whipped round, blue eyes widening in shock before he managed a strangled “Eurk” and slammed the bathroom door.

There is rustling behind the door. Ronan is glued to the spot, processing. Yeah, processing. After another moment, the door is opened gingerly and a dusty brown mop of hair peeks out. 

“Who are you?” The boy, Adam?, asked, muffled by the door still half closed. Ronan closed the main door behind him.

“Ronan. I live here now.” 

“Oh. OH. Sorry about before. Let's forget about it.” The slight twang to his voice became more prominent, as the door opened fully to reveal Ronan's roommate.

“I’m Adam. Nice to meet you.” He said softly, averting his gaze but stretching a freckled hand out, Ronan gave it a shake. “So, your bed’s the one by the window. Don't snore. And don't stab me.”

“I don't really sleep. And I wont stab you.” 

“Great.” Adam moved, sitting on his bed cross-legged and planting his scrawny elbows on his knees. “Let’s do this now.”

“I’m...I'm sorry?”

“Give me the story. Why are you here? You clearly didn't come here on your own, I can see the parking lot from our window.”

“Oh and you did?”

“...actually yeah, I did.” Adam mumbled. Ronan blinked and sat on what was now his bed, laying with his arms tucked behind his head. “But enough about me, come on, you're the tall, brooding type. You must have a good story.” Ronan looked affronted for a moment before relaxing again.

“I got caught up with the wrong crowd. Person. And now I have to rehabilitate myself.”

“What does the wrong crowd do these days?” Adam asked, scratching at his chin.

“Drugs. Drag races. Illegal endeavours. I...I did something bad. And now i’m here and I don't hate it, I ruined my friends opinion of me and ruined them emotionally too. I kept crawling back to him, and was too goddamn weak to realise how much i’d fallen. That’s me.”

Adam was silent for a while, then…

“Damn. You do realise i’m not a counsellor in disguise? But hey, thanks for sharing. I appreciate it, It takes a lot.” Adam sat back.

“And now? You've got to reciprocate.”

“This isn't intercourse”

“...Still.”

“Guess.”

“Umm.” Ronan moved his eyes to Adam, assessing him. “Self-harm? You put on long sleeve clothes. Anxiety? Not drugs or alcohol, you look to sweet to be tainted by such mortal pleasures” Adam turned red at the offhand compliment.

“Anxiety isn't too far off the mark. Self-harm no. Let's talk about it later, want to go look around? I'll give you a tour.” Adam spoke hurriedly, eager to get off the topic clearly. He scuffed on some sneakers and opened the door, beckoning Ronan outside. “Have you met Blue? Of course you have. Like her?”

Ronan fell in step beside Adam, noticing the other boys height now that they stood close together. 

“She's nice…”

“Yeah. Even though she isn't qualified as the staff that deal with that stuff or anything, she's good to talk to.” 

The pair walked down the main staircase and out the front door.

“Wait. We don't have to, like, inform anyone…?” Ronan hesitated.

“Nah, we can't really go far unless you're planning on getting lost in the woods and eaten by wolves.” Adam trudged forward, a soldier. Ronan couldn't help but feel at ease with Adam’s presence, aware that they were both here for less than happy reasons, both in need of fixing somehow but nevertheless okay, stable. Adam was a sunbeam. 

They walked through the surrounding grounds, walking past a tennis court, a patio with a small cluster of people lazing in sun chairs, reading novels and magazines and past a glassy lake that reflected the mountains in the distance. The mountain between Ronan and Monmouth, and the people inside it. Goddamn this rehab shit for making him miss everything he took for granted, it’s been, what, two hours? Ronan sighed.

“Yeah” Adam mumbled beside him, knowing. 

They stood, close but far apart. Silent but informed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyy thats a spicy meatball

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers, buddies.


End file.
